The Time Traveling adventures of Blaire and Keefe
by Willy Speareshake
Summary: When their Uncle dies, Blaire and Keefe inherit his own version of the TARDIS! Follow their slap-stick adventures through time and space!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

When Uncle Jack died, he left Blaire and Keefe his house. It was a very up to date house with all the necessities.

What they found-out was that Uncle Jack, age 76 and cause of death liver failure, wasn't the old dodder that he first appeared as. He, in fact, was part of an experimental time-warp project. It closed after some of its personnel decided they liked where they were and didn't want to go back, thank you very much. In addition, the head of the project read about the butterfly-effect and had a panic attack. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. He was carried blubbering from his office and retired to a small island off the coast of South America, after he got out of St. Boniface's Asylum. Uncle Jack never forgot about those days, and when Blaire and Keefe moved in after the mourning period was over, they found out he took more than just memories from that experience. He built his own time machine and they, the lucky people that they were, just moved in.

Blaire, age 26 and cause of death yet to be determined, bent over a small plate of gel. She studied it, her face falling into a frown as her eyes narrowed in concentration. Short lines in a column led to a pit at one end of the gel. She compared it to more short lines next to it, a heavily labeled suspect with lots of tape arrows pointing towards it. Her head whipped around and she glared at her brother. Keefe was sitting comfortably in an armchair, headphones stuck firmly in his ears. His eyes closed he appeared to be asleep. Blaire gave an "AHEM!", Keefe let out a theatrical snore. Blaire's face turned white with rage and she set her teeth. She gave a louder "AHEM!", Keefe blinked his eyes sleepily and yawned. He popped out his headphones and put the two pieces next to him. Blaire's right eye twitched. She could wait no longer. "I analyzed the DNA from the crime scene and -."

Keefe interrupted her, "Crime scene? Do you mean the honey in your comb?"

"Yes!"

Keefe settled back, "Just making sure."

Blaire looked at him suspiciously, and then continued, "Anyway, the DNA from the crime scene and my suspect's DNA match perfectly." She smiled evilly. Keefe nervously asked, "I thought the crime scene's DNA was incomplete?"

"I used PCR on it."

"Ah, English please."

"I did say it in English!"

"Kindergarten English."

Blaire said slowly, "I cloned it so that the DNA made two." There was a fruitful pause.

"…Explain it to me like I'm two."

Blaire exploded, "I can't dumb it down anymore!"

"Then I don't understand what you're talking about."

There was a longer fruitful pause. Blaire said carefully, "Understand this, your DNA matches the crime scene's DNA and I'm not happy about it. Comprendé?"

A few moments later Blaire had Keefe in a headlock and was trying her best to strangle him. She was growling, "You thought you could get away with it! 'DNA is incomplete'!" She said this in an unflattering voice. Keefe broke the hold and ran for it. He sprinted across the floor and down the stairway to the door. There were three keypads at shoulder-height and a large red button to the left of the door. Keefe hit the button, threw open the door and ran through. Blaire heavily breathed out, "Oh no you didn't!" She stared out the door into the thick gray fog. She crossed to the door and looked at the closest keypad. It was numbered zero to nine, and 1920 glowed in black numbers on the screen above it. She stares again out the door, "No you didn't."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two of my best friends started this story. They took turns writing each chapter, and have given me permission to post it online, yay! The 3 of us developed the characters together, they wrote it, and I've edited it. They've given me about 7 chapters and I'll be writing them myself after that ^_^.**

**Please Review! **

Chapter Two

Keefe jogged up the cobbled streets of 1920 London. The fog curled around him, his long, double-buttoned jacket kept the cold out. He grinned cheerfully, his ears alert to any following footsteps. A red-haired girl loomed out of the fog. Keefe smiled flirtatiously and deftly sidestepped her. She smiled back, her bright blue eyes sparkled, and then she disappeared. He slowed down to a swagger and started to whistle. A well dressed gentleman nodded to him, passing him with a rapid walk. Keefe nodded back. Just out of hearing behind him, blue electricity lit up the fog – engulfing the man. Keefe ignorant of it, turned into a side street. He stopped suddenly; a group of men frozen in position stared back at him. "Um…hello, have any of you seen my cat? It's bright orange and perky looking?" Keefe smiled disarmingly. A man, wearing a cap and a coat with its collar flipped-up, turned toward him. "Not smart boy, should've run."

A weasel-y man fitted brass knuckles on as he smiled. His two front teeth were prominent. The big guy behind weasel pulled a wicked looking knife from an inside pocket. Behind them, in the crates they had been unloading, glass cylinders gleamed.

Keefe ran. The three men stood looking after him. "Speedy little guy." the capped man said. Weasel nodded sagely. The big man looked disappointed. Capped snapped his fingers, "After him."

Keefe could hear their following footsteps. The fog was thinner. His shaggy brown hair had droplets at the tips. His breath came out in a fine mist; he noticed this in a small part of his mind. His sister chased him randomly, but he didn't expect complete strangers to take such a violent dislike to him. Maybe he was uglier than he thought, he mused as he turned another corner. He stopped. The red-haired girl stood with one hand up, palm facing him. She said, "I'm sorry, but this must happen." Her voice didn't waver. Keefe noticed this with that small part of his mind as Weasel, Capped and Big Guy (the small part named them) piled on top of him. He also noticed that the girl was gone. She had vanished into the fog as if she had never been. Yep, definitely uglier then he thought. Keefe was hauled up; Big Guy twisted his arm behind his back.

"Easy, easy, this coat is genuine leather." Keefe cautioned. Weasel looked confused. Capped said, "Shut up, I don't like you. Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I don't care. I'm going to enjoy this."

"That's what my sister says, along with 'Shut up big mouth', 'wrong move bro.', 'I wish you were a dog, and then maybe you'd listen'." Keefe babbled on, aware that the moment he stopped they would kill him. Why, was a question he had no answer for. (They didn't like his face perhaps?) "I, in all honesty, have no idea what she is talking about."

"What? Wait…no! Shut up! Stop talking! You're confusing things." Capped held up a knife threateningly. Keefe's eyes followed it.

Footsteps sounded on the cobble stones. Everything froze, Capped did and impressive vanishing act with his knife. A constable walked past. Big Guy tried to look surprised that Keefe's arm was in his hands. It would be funny, Keefe thought, if it wasn't serious. As soon as the constable disappeared, the knife was whisked out. Weasel sounded thoughtful, "Charlie, he doesn't sound British and…I think he's a traveler." Capped thought about this. "How did you find us!" he snapped at Keefe.

"Would you accept tourist?"

Capped said, "You just happened to be walking by. Yeah, I don't think so."

Weasel said, "We should find out what he knows."

"Damn, you're right." Big Guy looked unhappy. Keefe had that affect on people.


End file.
